Ho-rah t'sov-masu
by Glenonaya
Summary: When Jim returns home in the midst of a rainstorm he finds Spock standing out on the balcony, drenched by the downpour. Old Married Spirk but not naughty in any way. Unless you consider a rain drenched Spock naughty.


_All those stories about how Spock doesn't like getting wet along with Emilie De Forest's song "Rain Maker" gave me this idea. Oh and Tony Abbott._  
_As ever betaed by lucycantdance :D._  
_Reposted because this story now has that verse in Vulcan I wanted. A great thank you for help in translating goes to thesadchicken._  
_This now also have lovely fanart by AloiInTheSky  
_

* * *

Lightning flashed across the sky over the San Francisco bay. Seconds later it was followed by a deafening clap of approaching thunder.

Jim looked up and saw black clouds roiling rapidly in towards the city.

_Damn. Now I'll get soaked._

His lectures at the Academy done for the day, he had decided to walk home, longing for the fresh air after being stuck in a classroom all day. If he hadn't detoured through the park to stroll among the flowers he'd have been home dry, quite literally. He had heard the weather forecasters promising rain that morning, but the sky had been bright cerulean blue without a single cloud in sight all day, so he had risked it, wanting to appreciate the riots of colours and scents the park always presented this time of year. Walking among the flowers, his meandering mind had completely lost track of time, and now he'd pay for his daydreaming.

Breaking into a light jog he hurried along the pavement, but he was still several minutes from his apartment building when the rainstorm broke, drenching his admiral's uniform in seconds. For an instant he considered seeking shelter, then decided against it. He couldn't get wetter than he already was and huddling somewhere, shivering with cold, didn't hold any appeal when his warm, dry apartment and his bondmate were so close. Though by the time he got to the entrance of the apartment building it felt as if even his bones were soaked.

He exited the turbovator on his floor and slogged, dripping, down the hall to the front door of their flat.

As he opened the front door and stepped inside he was met by a gust of cool, briny air permeated by the smell of rain. Jim looked to his right and true enough, the door to the balcony was wide open, the curtains fluttering in the breeze.

Out on the balcony itself stood Spock, clad only in a thin shirt and trousers, bare footed, and with face and palms turned up towards the sky. Inside on the window sill lay the Vulcan's robe, neatly folded, beside a towel.

Jim shook his head. This wasn't the first time he had seen Spock standing in the rain like this. In fact, over the years he'd observed it several times, though never this closely. He could still remember the first time.

Aqon II, a small system with only one habitable planet. He and Spock had both been part of the away team. When it had suddenly started raining Kirk had quickly sought shelter in a cave along with the rest of the team, only to find that the Vulcan hadn't joined them. Jim had gone looking when the science officer didn't answer his comm, worried that something might have happened. He had found Spock a little way off, standing just as he did now, apparently lost to the world. Kirk had kept his distance, not wanting to disturb whatever it was Spock was doing, but not wanting to leave his officer alone and vulnerable either. When the rain shower had ended, and the Vulcan came back to himself, Kirk had snuck off. It wasn't the last time it happened, but Spock never spoke of what he was doing and Jim didn't know how to bring it up. It seemed harmless so he let it slide.

But watching Spock now, he once more wondered what was going on. His bondmate disliked getting cold, and yet he seemed perfectly happy standing there, soaked, wet clothes clinging to his lean frame, hair plastered to his head. And as on all the other occasions, the Vulcan appeared oblivious to his surroundings.

_Maybe I should surprise him? Just this once?_

Once the thought formed, it seemed a good idea. Kicking off his muddied boots, Jim snuck across the carpeted living room to the balcony door. As he neared he noticed that Spock appeared to be humming under his breath. No, not humming, his lips were moving. _Singing? Or chanting?_ Jim had never been close enough before to hear it, or maybe Spock just hadn't done it before.

_Singing_, Jim decided as he came up to stand in the balcony doorway. _There's a tune to it_. The words were clearly Vulcan. He might not speak the language very well, but he understood it at least in part. He could pick out the words for rain and clouds and earth, but the rest remained gibberish to his ears.

_Spock, singing to the rain?_

It sounded formalised and sort of archaic, like a ritual of some sort. _Why would Vulcans have a rain ritual? The planet was mostly desert._

Despite Jim's approach Spock remained as he was, intent only on his song. Kirk studied him, captivated by the fat drops running down the Vulcan's skin, being soaked into already drenched cloth, observing how the water created intricate patterns on the Vulcan as the drops struck – patterns that were gone in an instant only to be replaced by new formations – and underlying it all, the ever-continuing alien song.

When the downpour quieted to a drizzle, Spock lowered his hands and the last, deep note of the song was drawn out until it faded into inaudibility. For a moment the Vulcan stood as still as a statue, then he turned, eyes falling on Jim. Suddenly trapped under Spock's inscrutable gaze, he felt like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have. The Vulcan approached him, face unemotional, unreadable. Jim stepped aside and Spock walked through the doorway.

"Admiral, you are back earlier than expected."

The abruptness of the words caught Jim off-guard and formality of address made him stiffen.

"I... was supposed to be home hours ago." Even as he said them, the words felt wrong, silly. Though they both knew each other's schedules they had never formalised any agreements as to when either of them would be home.

"I merely assumed that you had decided to stay and do paperwork." Spock had closed the balcony door and started undressing, hanging his dripping wet clothes on the doorhandle.

"I went for a walk in the park, got caught by..." Jim's voice trailed off. Spock wasn't looking at him anymore, having begun towelling down, and his turned back made him feel even more awkward if that was possible.

"Perhaps you should dry yourself?" Spock's voice was slightly muffled by the towel.

It wasn't till now that Jim remembered that not only was he drenched to the skin like Spock had been, he was shivering too, having stood about in the cold for far too long. He didn't know what to say so he simply turned and went into the bathroom, taking Spock's wet clothes with him.

He stripped off the wet uniform, hanging it up to dry alongside Spock's shirt and trousers, and briefly considered a warm shower to heat back up, but getting wet once felt like more than enough to him. Instead he towelled himself off, put on his bathrobe and went back to the living room.

Spock was kneeling in front of the now blazing fireplace that was slowly warming the room back up. The Vulcan's hands were folded in his lap and he appeared already deep in meditation, so Jim headed into the bedroom.

He dropped his robe on the bed and went to the closet. Still feeling uncomfortably chill he quickly pulled on a shirt, sweater, sweatpants and a pair of Spock's woollen socks. Thankfully their feet at least were almost the same size.

Once dressed and feeling a bit less frozen, Jim found himself standing in the middle of the bedroom not really knowing what to do. Since his meld with V'Ger Spock had become far more approachable – memories of exactly how... _approachable_ his bondmate could be made Jim smile briefly – but it sometimes made Jim forget that Spock was Vulcan far more than he would ever be human. Like today, the person who had stepped through the doorway had been fully Vulcan, even more so than Spock had _ever_ been on their five-year mission, with no trace of humanness in sight. And that gap between them, one that he knew he could never truly span, always made Jim feel lost and afraid. He wondered how Amanda had managed it all these years.

Not wanting to go into the living room and face that familiar stranger kneeling by the fire, Jim dropped down on the bed, sighing.

He had known when he had accepted Spock's offer to bond that he would at times be faced with parts of his friend and husband that he wouldn't understand, that there would always be a cultural divide between them no matter how much they learned about each other. He just hadn't been prepared to face it in their home, not so soon or so out-of-the-blue.

The door opened, making Jim blink back to himself. He had been so lost in thought that he had lost all sense of time passing. Spock stepped through the door, a cup in each hand. Silently he sat down next to Jim, handing him one.

"This should help you get warm again." Spock's voice was quiet and correct, but the lines of his face had softened again and his eyes once again held their now customary warmth.

Jim accepted the offered cup and sipped the hot, black, honey-sweetened tea.

After a few seconds of silence Jim spoke.

"I'm sorry if I intruded earlier."

"You did not. You _did_ catch me off-guard."

"Why? Do you feel the need to be guarded here? Around me?"

Spock looked down into his cup. Jim got a sinking feeling. He reached out, running his fingertips along the back of Spock's hand.

"Spock, if I ever made you feel like you had to withdraw from me, to guard yourself from me, in order to be who you are... I don't know how to apologise if I've made you feel that."

The Vulcan looked back up, surprise on his face.

"You have not, but I did not expect you to arrive when you did."

"And therefore to see you doing... whatever it was you were doing." Jim looked into Spock's eyes. "Sounds to me like you _do_ feel the need to keep parts of yourself tucked away."

"No Jim. But this is something that is difficult for me to explain."

"Because I'm human?"

"Because Earth is so fertile."

"Well you've certainly lost me now."

"On a planet as arid as Vulcan all water is precious, and none more so than rain. If the rain did not fall the crops would not grow and all would starve. What you witnessed is a ritual carried out every year where I grew up, when the rain time begins."

Spock drank of his tea, appearing to consider how to continue.

"Its roots are lost in antiquity, long before the time of Surak and the Reformation, when my people were still tribal and technologically undeveloped. Originally it was a ritual to call the rain, to entreat the gods that they should allow it to fall and the cycle of fertility begin. As science progressed and it was shown that merely singing was unlikely to have even the slightest effect on weather patterns, the ritual was abandoned."

Jim sipped his tea. "But it was brought back?"

"Correct. It was one of the ancient customs that was brought back after the Reformation had taken hold, not as a way to _call_ the rain but to honour it. And to serve as a reminder that when the ecological balance is destroyed, violence and war will inevitably follow in its wake."

Jim smiled wryly. "Maybe humanity should institute something similar. You would think we learned our lesson considering how close we got to destroying our planet once, but sometimes we still seem to forget it."

Spock drank from his tea, wisely refraining from commenting apart from a single raised eyebrow. The familiarity made Jim smile, then his smile faded slightly.

"Can I- Would you sing it again? You were singing so low earlier I couldn't hear it properly." It was odd. He felt more awkward asking Spock about this than about intimate sex acts. But then, given how intensely private the Vulcan species were, maybe that wasn't so odd after all.

But Spock merely nodded once and reached out to set his cup on the nightstand. Closing his eyes and folding his hands in his lap, he drew a deep breath. Opening his mouth, his deep and slightly rumbling voice rang clear out in the bedroom.

_Salur kal-tor samu pi-salan_

_eh hoknau samek salan wan_

_Tusa kal-tor igen t'ha'kiv-bezhun-masu_

_eh mu'glau solektra_

_Masupau kal-tor sov-masu-thek solektra_

_eh katau to'ovaya va-ashiv_

Jim crawled backwards on the bed so that his back was against the headboard. Tea in one hand, he wrapped the other around his pulled up knees. Losing himself in the Vulcan song he was vaguely aware that the rain grew more intense once again, providing a soft percussion effect against the window, a rhythmic underscore to Spock's voice.

Maybe the song really could summon the rain?

* * *

The verse in English:

_Let the cool breeze blow,_  
_and the cold wind gather the clouds._  
_Let the sky weep the tears of life,_  
_and darken the earth._  
_Let the raindrops soak the ground,_  
_and bring growth again._

Once again thank you to thesadchicken for help with the translation. The title of the story should mean 'Ritual of Rain', if I did it correctly.


End file.
